


how lucky we are to be alive right now

by xShieru



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, M/M, coincidences and a streak of luck, or perhaps misfortune
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xShieru/pseuds/xShieru
Summary: In a world where status and fortune mean more than personal happiness, Lord Sora Strife of Destiny Islands is forced into an arranged marriage with his childhood friend, Lady Kairi Mizushima of Radiant Garden. However, fate seemingly has different plans in store when it brings back a boy from Sora's distant past - now a noble knight, and unfortunately for him, Kairi's adopted sibling.Wherein Sora falls in love with the wrong person at his own engagement party and Riku struggles with some confessions.





	1. Chapter 1

The lack of oxygen.

The chilly depths of the sea encase him in murky green and blue hues. His surroundings keep on distorting due to the faint rays of light barely squeezing through the rippling surface. It’s so far away, that light - he continues on sinking. In his periphery, he notices the tangled remains of a broken net, noiselessly fluttering in the currents like some bizarre, ghostly spider web. Around him – clutters of seaweed, tall wisps reaching out towards the sun, hoping to catch some of its nonexistent warmth. A school of silvery fish swims past his rapidly dimming eyes, startled by the jerky trashing and the bubbles leaving his lungs.

_The lack of oxygen._

Oh god, it’s impossible to breathe. It feels like it’s been hours.

Right as his eyelids involuntarily close and the ringing in his ears finally subsides, replaced by an eerie-sort of silence, he feels movement overhead and a hand holding his, small fingers clutching even smaller ones, pulling the drowning boy towards the sun, towards salvation. It’s so bright that it nearly burns.

Sora’s head breaches the surface as he flails, gags and coughs, salty water leaving little lungs in mouthfuls. He cannot find it in himself to calm down no matter how much his savior insists, dogpaddling towards the skeleton of what once was a fishing pier.

“Breathe,” the kid instructs in a forcibly calm voice once they’re safe and the blue sky spins overhead. “Just breathe and you’ll be fine.”

Slowly, Sora manages to focus his vision just enough to properly look up, disoriented by the harsh backlight casting an unnaturally dark shadow across his savior’s face. He cannot make out any facial features, only short-cropped pale strands dripping on the bridge of Sora’s nose. The kid’s bent over his sopping wet body to check his condition, and even though Sora cannot properly see the other's eyes, he can tell that the boy is undeniably worried.

Sora wants to reach out to him, but his arms feel as though they’ve been pumped full of lead. He looks at his fingers, determined to make them move and when he looks up again, he finds that the scene has already warped, switching to something entirely different - Sora finds himself carried in the arms of his caretaker, the fur lining his collar gently tickling Sora’s nose.

“Where have you been? Look at you, Cloud’s going to pop a blood vessel if he sees you like this. Let’s get you back home and then cleaned up, Sora,” Leon’s steady voice is no more than a low hum in Sora’s ear, that familiar scent calming him and lulling him into a sleepy, content state. Tiredly, the boy peels his cheek off his guardian’s signature leather jacket to glance at the pale-haired kid. He still lacks a face, shadows now replaced by a fuzzy-edged blur, and he stands really still, silently watching Sora leave. The latter offers a weak smile, bleary-eyed.

“ _Sora_ ,” the boy calls out, voice echoing in a rather peculiar way as though there's a see-through wall between them.

“SORA!” he repeats, this time a lot louder. The indistinguishable scenery glitches and warps, a mess of red and pink hues. “SORA, WATCH OUT!”

The red apple that hits his forehead nearly splits in half upon contact. With a yowl of pain, Sora sits up straight, heatedly rubbing at the aching spot. Thankfully, the overripe fruit has landed a hit in his hairline rather than the center of the forehead. He can already feel the beginnings of an angry bruise forming there. “What was that for!?” Sora grumpily yells in Roxas’ general direction. The latter already has another fruit in his possession, tossing it up and down like a ball.

“A wake up call,” his younger brother shouts back with a smug smirk tugging at his lips, and throws the apple to Ventus, who only lowers himself to professionally hit it with a sturdy branch. “You’ve been snoozing away for half an hour now, princess.”

Ven sends an exasperated look his twin’s way. “What he means to say is that we’re gonna have to go get changed soon. The preparations for the ceremony are almost complete. Also he didn’t mean to hit you, he’s just bad at pitching.” Ventus merely shrugs at Roxas’ indignant intake of breath followed by an offended “I am not!”

“Has it really been half an hour…?” Sora mutters to no one in particular and yawns, stretching out his sore back. Falling asleep on the lawn wasn’t exactly ideal, not when summer was well on its way to autumn, the ground chilled and dangerous to sleep on. “Did I miss anything?”

“Well _Ventus_ almost shattered a window and then landed a hit on their gardener,” Roxas reports with a sardonic smile, casting a _look_ Ven’s way. It’s promptly ignored. “I reckon Cloud’s gonna have our heads right after the party.”

“At least I have an excuse,” Sora shrugs. “You probably should’ve stopped _before_ you nearly cracked my head open. Don’t forget that I’m _trying_ to leave a good impression here and today I’m the one responsible for all of us.”

“Yeah, yeah, guest of honor, whatever. It’s just,” Roxas lets out a long-suffering sigh, underlining every word with a toss of an apple, “So. Goddamn. Boring.”

“I have to agree,” Ventus pipes up from a little further away, rolling the stray apples into a small pile with the tip of his boot. “This beats sitting around in our quarters, though. Can’t they just let us go? At least Rox and I? No offense, Sora.”

“Hey now, if we suffer, we suffer together,” Sora huffs, crossing his arms. The pout looks ridiculous on him, ruining his older sibling authority. “What would I do without you two?”

“I dunno. Sleep?” Roxas offers with an exaggerated eye roll and joins Ventus in cleaning up their mess. “You’ve been doing so well without us. They probably want to supervise us so that we don’t run off and stay out of the kitchen. Or track mud inside. I feel like I’m five.”

“Complain a little less and they might mistake you for your actual age,” Ventus inaudibly mumbles, which, of course, Roxas hears loud and clear. Without much thought, Sora turns away from the bantering twins now throwing their hard work at each other’s faces, apples flying everywhere. The sun is already low in the horizon, dipping into the tall flower hedges framing their resting spot, located away from the main garden and the privy eyes of servants and injury-susceptible gardeners. In the wide, arched windows, Sora can see countless maids zooming around the manor, lighting expensive candles and fixing the heavy curtains, dusting the windowsills.

His gaze drifts up, following a young maid rushing upstairs with what seems to be sewing supplies clutched in her hands, towards Kairi’s quarters. The curtains of the girl’s room are pulled closed. Occasionally, Sora can make out the silhouettes of her personal maids against the dark pink material. They’ve been dolling up Kairi for hours now, hidden away from the rest, from Sora.

The Strifes had arrived earlier today, right before lunchtime, yet when they were led to the grandiose dining room, Kairi was nowhere to be found. Sora then spent the entirety of lunch restless in his seat, eager to see his childhood friend and future wife – after all, it’s been years since their last visit to Radiant Garden. His ditzy behavior was noticed right away, with Cloud sending him a nasty stare over the long table and Kairi’s grandmother laughing at Sora’s overall adorableness. With a youthful, knowing wink, she kindly reassured Sora that the wait would be worth it. Tonight, Kairi wanted to surprise him and the rest of the guests. Until then, no one was allowed to see her, as per Kairi’s request - the exception being her family and the estate’s staff, of course.

After all, today was a _very_ special day, not for one, but two reasons.

“You’re eager to see her again, aren’t you?” Ven successfully snaps Sora out of his inner musings, tone gentle and polite as he moves to stand next to Sora. There’s a blooming bruise on his jaw. Sora suppresses a sigh – the twins always act like kids rather than young adults whenever boredom is involved in the equation. Ventus, the older one among the two, isn’t the type to get easily provoked or to provoke in return unless the other person is, of course, Roxas or their cousin Vanitas. Overall, he’s a nice kid, a highly empathetic one to boot, so it comes of no surprise to Sora whenever Ventus reads the mood or his mind a bit too well. Sometimes it’s rather unsettling.

Right now it has the opposite effect. “Yeah,” he sighs out, almost longingly. “It’s been years. I didn’t get to be there for her when…” he trails off, worrying at his lower lip. “I hope she doesn’t hold it against me.”

“I don’t think she will,” Ventus pats his shoulder to soothe him, while Roxas scoffs in the background, uselessly rubbing at the grass stains adorning his pants, “Yeah, she’s far too into you for that.”

“You were extremely ill, Sora. It’s not like you had a choice on the matter.”

“I guess so. Still…” he trails off as his eye catches quick movement in one of the windows. Interested, he follows it, only to lose the person when they round a corner, pale hair swishing from the movement.

Involuntarily, he remembers his dream, shuddering at the sick sensation still mercilessly squeezing at his ribcage. He cannot recall much of it, but the feeling of sinking never fails to make him jolt awake, drenched in cool sweat. In the end, while Sora got over his fear of water, he never managed to learn how to swim, the image of swaying seaweed and mysterious darkness still fresh in his mind, burning beneath his eyelids.

“Wasn’t that Riku?” Ventus whispers for whatever reason, as though afraid to break the magic of the moment. “I heard that he tends to avoid big social gatherings. Do you think he’ll show?”

“Of course he will. It’s Kairi’s 18th birthday. You know. Coming of age. Handing her over to Sora here.” Roxas gestures in his brother’s direction with a wide swipe of his palm, mistaking the faraway look in his eyes for blatant mooning.

Riku. Sora has heard all about him in Kairi’s letters and in the rumors, various stories that have reached even their faraway, secluded home. Riku’s story of success has inspired multiple little kids to try hard and achieve their goals, especially the peasant children aiming to become Radiant Garden’s knights. Once a poor fisherman’s son, Riku was but a simple child with big dreams, who has managed to reach knightdom at the tender age of fourteen and then promptly got adopted into Kairi’s family at fifteen. The circumstances of the adoption were… the most unfortunate, but alas, Riku was now one of the most respected people out there, a knight of high status, a noble in name.

Sora never got the chance to officially meet him, having found himself violently ill the same week when that incident had occurred, killing Kairi’s parents in the process. Riku was present at the funeral as the sole surviving knight who’d lain down his life on the line to save and protect Lady Kairi Mizushima of Radiant Garden – if not for his efforts, Sora wouldn’t be here right now, waiting to celebrate her birthday and to see her once more. Touched by the newbie knight’s dedication, Kairi’s grandmother took Riku in, offering the boy a place under her roof and by her hearth.

In her letters, Kairi only ever spoke well of Riku, of his braveness and gallantry, calling him an older brother figure. Truly, if deeds made a man, then Riku should be christened the guardian deity of their estate.

Sora has no doubt in mind that Riku is just as wonderful in person as he is in stories.

Hardly containing his excitement and impatient to meet his future brother-in-law, Sora grins and turns around to chatter with his brothers as the sun sets lower and Leon calls them back inside to get ready for the ball, forcing the boys to abandon their dirty boots outside.

Sora has a giddy feeling bubbling in his chest which tells him that it’s going to be a splendid one, rushing towards his room and nearly tripping over the stairs in his haste.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry crust

“I can’t breathe in this,” Roxas silently complains, tugging at the too-tight jabot secured in place by an intricate golden ornament.

“Don’t touch that,” Cloud snaps at him in a quiet hiss, slapping away Roxas’ fingers before they can do any damage. The pinched frown etched between those thin, constantly furrowed eyebrows barely subsides when the family gets greeted by an old, stocky man in a ridiculous top hat and even dumber moustache. Privately, Sora compares him to a beached walrus, fascinated by the luscious facial hair animatedly moving around. The gentleman’s laughter is too deep and raucous, and he is clearly far too touchy than Cloud is comfortable with (which isn’t much to begin with), back pulled taut, slightly flinching at every friendly pat on the narrow shoulder. Cloud doesn’t shrug him off. 

It’s always weird to witness the head of house Strife pretending to be social, forcing out polite smiles that never reach his pale blue eyes, but alas, life has forced the man into a position of power at a fairly young age, and he absolutely could not afford to make enemies, not with their current status.

Located ways into the sea, the Destiny Islands archipelago was famous for its herring trade which was thoroughly overlooked by the Strife family. Remote and prosperous – those were the first two words popping into people’s heads whenever the islands got mentioned in passing conversations. If not for the flourishing trade, the archipelago tended to attract those seeking sanctuary – after all, it was common knowledge that Destiny Islands’ shores were positively breathtaking, especially at dusk and dawn. However, as of late, they’ve been experiencing… some _difficulties_ , followed by a significant drop in customers and visitors.

It was public knowledge that the surrounding waters have become polluted, no longer fit for catching herrings and fishing in general. The reason behind this massive fish migration was yet to be discovered – most of their precious herrings have moved on to the secluded foreign shores up north. Every port town in the area was now experiencing massive economical losses from which they could not recover, with the exception of Radiant Garden – it was the last remaining town wherein trades continued to flourish up to this day, fishing territories overflowing with goods.

For as long as Sora could remember, the Strifes and Mizushimas have been on exceptionally good terms, their family trees interwoven so closely that one could easily mistake them for a single household. Sora’s grandparents, as their parents before them, mom and dad, and now Sora himself, weren’t an exception to this destiny - at least one Strife kid from every generation got married off to a Mizushima, ensuring mutual trust and an on-going peace treaty between the two households. Cloud, the firstborn child, was promised to the Lockharts, whereas Sora got stuck with Kairi Mizushima of Radiant Garden, a girl pretty much “made” for him – only a year younger, the sole daughter and heir of the house Mizushima.

This old marriage arrangement was perfectly timed and nothing short of a blessing from above – right as they experienced their biggest economical downfall in the past fifty years, Kairi turned of age. It was now Sora’s job to save their house and to fulfill his destiny by taking Lady Kairi’s hand in marriage to join their noble households once more. No pressure, one might say.

For the past six months, Cloud Strife has wasted plenty of money, blood, sweat and tears just to make this marriage work.

Tonight was the fateful night. Everything was to go smoothly, without the slightest hitch. Sora is fairly certain that his high-strung older brother would have an intense mental breakdown right in the middle of the ballroom if he was to notice a single thing out of place or everything did not go as he’d planned.

Roxas continues complaining about his ballroom apparel whereas Ventus discreetly shoves food into his pockets, smiling in an overly angelic way when his conversation partner catches him mid-act. It takes a warning glower from Cloud for Roxas to finally take a hint and wander off to complain about _boring ass balls_ elsewhere while Sora uncertainly remains glued to Cloud’s side, fully dedicating himself to the golden child role, amusing himself with people-watching and Cloud’s barely-masked fuming. He then gets introduced to Mr. Walrus who congratulates Sora on his engagement and goes into a lot of painstaking detail about his own daughter, about what a beauty she is, _and oh, did he know that she can play ten kinds of different instruments and speak at least seven languages, and what a shame it is that the young Lord was already promised to another–_

“Excuse yourself before he drags his poor daughter here,” Cloud instructs in Sora’s ear, still smiling at the funky moustache guy. Sora is left amazed by his older brother’s self-restrain. He’s betrayed by his twitchy lower eyelid, though. “Mingle. Keep an eye on those two,” a pointed glance at the twins, thankfully not causing any trouble and shortening Cloud’s lifespan, “Make sure to meet Kairi when she comes out.”

“Okay, _mom_. Don’t strangle him with his own cravat,” Sora hisses back with an amused huff and happily skitters away, leaving Cloud behind to suffer.

Ventus ignores Sora’s existence in favor of uncle Eraqus and right now Roxas isn’t Sora’s go-to – judging by the sour look on the blond teen’s face, Sora can tell that he’s plotting and whatever it is, it won’t be good. He hopes that it doesn’t end up being “the mice incident” wherein Roxas showed up to a ball with pockets full of tiny furry animals only to set them loose in the middle of the ballroom. In the end, no one could pin it on him, but Sora knew better, and being a good older brother that he was, he didn’t snitch. Ven had collected the scattered mice and brought them back to Destiny Islands, raising them as pets – he absolutely adored them and still teared up whenever he remembered Jaq and Gus.

Sora is resting in the shade of a marble column located further away from the faceless crowd constantly congratulating him and making him unnecessarily anxious, and desperately tugging at the frilly, gold lace-lined sleeve of his stuffy undershirt when he bumps into Naminé, Kairi’s handmaiden.

It takes a moment for Sora to actually recognize her, seeing that he’s only ever met her once, in work outfit to boot. Right now, she’s wearing a puffy white dress, simple in its design and clearly inexpensive – to the eyes of the rich guests flooding the ballroom, the girl must seem awfully out of place, someone who clearly does not belong.

Balking in fear, she bows at the waist, “I apologize, Lord Strife, I didn’t know that you were hiding away here.”

“Sora is fine, Miss,” the brunet grins sheepishly at being caught like this, relaxing his body language to reassure the skittish handmaiden that it’s okay and that no punishment will befall her for bumping into the man of the evening.

She immediately gets flustered at being addressed so casually, “Oh no, Sir, it’s just Naminé.”

“Alright then, Just Naminé,” she gapes, far too fearful to correct the purposeful jumble, unable to decipher Sora’s teasing tone. It saddens the man just a little – he’s used to their servants treating him and his family members like equals. This is slightly disheartening. “What brings you to this rather convenient hideout?”

She nervously tugs at the frills adorning the hems of her lace gloves, wrists delicate and just a shade darker than the snow-white garments. He’s seen Roxas eyeing the servant girl at the dining room and the garden. He can definitely understand why. As though reading his mind, Naminé sighs, voice barely audible over the hustle and bustle of the party. “I’ve been seeking shelter away from his lordship’s younger sibling and his… very _persistent_ friend. His advances have made me,” she carefully chooses her words, glancing behind the column just to make sure that no one is listening in on their conversation, “rather uncomfortable,” Naminé finishes, looking every bit so.

Upset by such blatant disregard to the poor girl’s feelings to the point that she had to hide, unable to fully enjoy herself, Sora tries his best to comfort her. Naminé’s wariness soon gets replaced by a quiet-sort of trust as she confides in Sora and it doesn’t take long for him to figure out that the aforementioned persistent friend is no one other than Roxas’ good old friend Hayner. He didn’t think that kid would show up – now Sora is certain that something was bound to go wrong. Those two are a dangerous combination. 

“It’s not that his-“ she quickly leaves out the “lordship” after catching Sora’s plain stare, “- your sibling’s and his friend’s affections are unflattering, it’s just that I… I–“ Naminé inhales and steadies her voice, flushing a pale pink, “I’m not _like that_. I do not prefer the company of men.”

“Oh,” is all that Sora says, eyes widening slightly.

He’s… heard some things about preferences before. About men choosing to sleep with other men and women choosing to do so with other women. He’s heard about it in towns, mostly mentioned in a mocking light, as gags or insults. He’s heard all about his distant cousin Xion, who’d rebelled, and rebelled, and rebelled against their family’s wishes, said that she would rather die than marry a man, and then ran away right before her engagement party to live out the rest of her “miserable dyke life in poverty”. Xion’s story was now nothing more than a black smudge on the pages of their family's otherwise spotless history, her name forgotten even by her own parents, not to be brought up anywhere under any circumstances. It was almost like she’d never existed to begin with.

“Don’t be like that girl, Sora,” his father had told him once a long time ago, and for the life of him, Sora could not figure out what he’d meant by it, too young to understand the gravity and the burden of upholding a good family name.

This is, however, the first time that Sora encounters someone who does not prefer the opposite sex.

He does not feel disgusted by it, nor does he feel the compulsive urge to judge Naminé for her lifestyle and personal choices. He doesn’t see what’s so bad about it – if she is happy, then why should he care? She can do whatever she likes, and if girls make her happy, then who is Sora to tell her otherwise? He doesn’t even know why he should find it in himself to care about these things.

The ancient “values” of the Strife family did not reach Sora’s heart, leaving it pure and unblemished, free of undeserved hatred.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can tell them to stop?” he offers and nearly gasps at the hopeful, extremely touched look passing over Naminé’s face. She probably expected him to judge, shocked to find out that Sora simply wasn’t like the rest of the nobility, Lady Kairi excluded.

And not only her.

“Oh no, I've spent far too much time chatting,” Naminé suddenly exclaims in realization, brushing nonexistent dirt off her pearly dress – Kairi’s old dress, a gift to her handmaiden. “I got sidetracked… I was supposed to find Sir Riku and ask him to return to the ballroom to greet Lady Kairi. She’s about to descend the grand staircase – you are to be there as well, right?”

At the mere mention of his destiny approaching at rapid speeds, Sora nervously swallows around the tight ball of nerves lodged somewhere deep down his throat, mentally agreeing with Roxas – the royal blue bow feels too tight around the jabot and Sora’s skinny neck.

He adjusts the golden clasps of his midnight blue cape, wipes off his sweaty brow and offers Naminé a polite elbow, cracking an anxious smile. “Since we’re both supposed to be there, I’m going to accompany you. If that’s okay with you? We can look for Riku together – I’m quite eager to meet him,” Sora finishes, letting out a giddy breath while Naminé tenderly and gracefully hooks her arm around his, guiding the noble man through the thick mass of people in firm, calculated steps. Sora simply follows craning his neck to search for a distinctive spot of silver among colorful rich materials, blinding jewelry and other accessories.

In his periphery, there is Roxas, eyeing Sora with the type of intensity that could curdle milk, clearly betrayed. Sora mouths that _this is not what it looks_ like whereas Naminé suppresses a bubbling laugh, looking in the opposite direction, attentively scanning the crowd. “Yes, I do think that you will get along splendidly.”

Curiosity piqued, Sora blinks down at his temporary date and guide. “Interesting. What’s he like? I’m really curious to hear out the less biased side,” he grins and Naminé shyly returns the gesture, far more relaxed than, say, ten minutes ago.

“Sir Riku… He’s,” Naminé places her free hand over her chin, rubbing it absentmindedly, seemingly lost deep in thought. “well, he’s certainly an unique individual. But not in a bad way, not at all,” she rushes to correct herself once she takes notice of Sora’s raised eyebrows. “We’ve never had the chance to properly speak despite running into each other almost daily. He likes to mostly keep to himself, I think. Perhaps a bit on the quiet side, but not overly so. I’m not much of a conversationalist, so I cannot say for sure. He’s pretty playful with Lady Kairi, though. They hold a whole lot of affection for each other,” Naminé trails off with a tiny smile and a content look dancing in her eyes. “He cannot replace her lost family, but he’s certainly managed to fill the void left behind in her heart and life, if only a little. I hate to think what she’d be like if Riku wasn’t around…”

Naminé visibly withers like a snowbell exposed to unnecessary heat and Sora’s heart aches at that hypothetical scenario, extremely glad that it’s never come to pass. Riku sounds all-around wonderful in Sora’s ears, already forming an image of someone extremely dependable and strong-willed. It’s reassuring to hear that he isn’t all about those knightly aesthetics and rules, that behind this front, there’s a personality, one that makes him human just like the rest despite his honorable deeds.

Naminé looks at him as though she’s seeing right into the depths of his soul, lips pulled together into a not-frown, analyzing Sora’s expressions. They continue crowd-diving as Naminé drops Sora bread crumbs of information which he eagerly devours, fueling the youthful flames licking the inside of his chest.

He mistakes them for casual admiration.

Wonderful Riku and his frequent visits to the town, his many talents, his love for animals and stargazing and beaches – the last one makes Sora shudder, just the slightest bit. Perfect Riku and his–

Sora _senses_ him before he sees him. There’s a pair of aquamarine-green eyes burning holes into his side, their owner obscured by a tight circle of rich folk and friendly-looking guards. Riku stands at the center, quite literally the center of everyone’s attention, and Sora halts mid-step, flushing under his collar, just the slightest bit.

He’s heard the stories, of course. He’s heard more than enough about the “perfect (insert sarcasm) knight boy with a pretentious savior complex” from Roxas after the Strifes had returned from Mizushimas’ funeral, greeted by Sora, sick and miserable, seeing double due to the fever. Ventus had his own firm opinion on the matter, telling Sora that Riku was perhaps the single most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. Roxas grunted at that, but never dared to deny Ven’s words. It was only the truth – it seemed that the Gods themselves had personally blessed the knight with good luck and fortune in every area imaginable.

Ven’s words did not do Riku justice in the slightest, nor did the flustered whispers of their household’s maids, swooning at the mere thought of visiting Radiant Garden and catching a glimpse of the rumored beauty, unattainable to all. Unfortunately for his countless fans, Riku never returned any affection directed his way, solely focused on his duties. No matter how beautiful the madam, Riku would politely entertain her for as long as it was deemed appropriate and then make his leave, disappearing into the crowds and unseen for the rest of the night.

Many were enticed by this elusive persona, the thrill of the chase adding a little spice and fanning the flames of their desire even higher. Many were eager to catch Riku’s eye. Countless women of every status flocked to him in throngs, lining up in front of him only to be gently turned down. Many got their hearts broken and quite a handful were bitter, spreading rumors that perhaps Sir Riku of house Mizushima held no interest in the opposite sex, constantly favoring the company of his fellow knights and guards. It was no secret that many men were pursuing the pale-haired beauty as well, their success rate unknown to the public.

When Sora sees him in the crowd, he finally feels like he understands.

His outfit is heavily obscured by his surrounding friends and companions, but from what he notices, Sora can tell that it’s elegant in that same extravagant way that Sora’s own is. The colors of their clothes are painted in the same shades of cobalt blues and deep yellows, golds, as though they have unknowingly matched their outfits for the night. But it’s not the flourish that steals away Sora’s peanut-sized attention, rather it’s the hair.

Pale strands brushing over intense eyes, softening the piercing stare. Pale like silver threads, like something familiar and dream-like, something Sora can’t quite pin. It feels like a long-forgotten memory, resting at the very forefront of his mind, unable to get out. The strands are long, framing Riku’s equally pale face, bringing out the sharpness of his jaw. The rest of it is collected in a loose ponytail held together by a royal blue ribbon lined in golden threads.

It looks incredibly soft to the touch. Privately, Sora wonders what the knight would look like with his hair down and then flushes even more, cheeks burning.

Naminé takes notice of the lovely cherry-red caking the bridge of Sora’s button nose, the hue so intense that the slather of freckles adorning his dimpled cheeks disappears back into the tanned skin. Carefully, she dislodges her arm – unknowingly, Lord Strife has pressed it into his side, crushing the limb.

The movement is his wake up call. Sora glances at Naminé and then discreetly back at Riku, who has refocused his attention on the girl dressed in white. Sora mentally slaps himself – of course Riku wasn’t busy ogling _him_ , he was clearly looking at _Naminé_. He made a mistake. Got a bit too hopeful thinking otherwise.

Riku must’ve thought it quite weird that Kairi’s future fiancé was holding hands with her handmaiden. Nothing more.

For some reason, that though deeply wounds something deep inside his chest.

“I must take my leave,” Naminé excuses herself with a rushed curtsy, noiselessly swimming through the crowd in Riku’s direction, no more than a ghost.

Sora has no time to contemplate his muddled feelings of sadness or look at the conversing pair sending quick looks in Sora’s direction, his back already faced their way. A servant in a festive uniform announces the fashionably late arrival of Lady Kairi Mizushima.

She descends the massive marble staircase to loud ovations and a sweet melody played by an obscured band of musicians. Sora momentarily forgets his surroundings, his worries, and everything in-between. In this room, there’s only him and Kairi and no one else, the sounds faint and faraway.

She looks _breathtaking._

Cloud materializes seemingly out of thin air and by his side, only to push Sora forward. He asks about the gift to which the brunet only nods absentmindedly, never taking his eyes off the girl in the light pink gown, shimmering with every delicate step. In Sora’s eyes, she looks like a real princess, yet he does not feel like much of a prince when their eyes finally meet and he rushes to meet her halfway, extending his hand for her to take like he’s been taught, electrifying shivers racing up and down his spine at the contact.

She flushes with happiness and something else entirely, dark violet eyes gleaming in the lights cast by massive crystal chandeliers hanging overhead and, at that moment, Sora feels happier than he has in a very long time. Just being next to her, his dearest childhood friend, feels like a dream. No amount of exchanged letters could ever replace Kairi’s sweet presence or her small hand in his. Oh, if he could, Sora would whisk her away from this nonsensical birthday party, this engagement celebration, and bring her to the garden, catch up on lost time and laugh together like in the good old days, traditions be damned.

Together, they descend the rest of the staircase to a fresh round of applause and take a moment to smile and wave at the guests, feeling high on contentment. Kairi’s fingers squeeze Sora’s bony ones, a private gesture indicating how much she’s missed doing this.

They make their grand escape as fast as they can. Sadly, not away from the party itself, but still somewhere more quiet where they can talk without having to yell over the music and the joyous noise.

“If I hear one more “congratulations on adulthood” or “your wedding”, I’m gonna get sick,” Kairi says once they’re settled by the desert buffet. She gives Sora her plate who stacks it up tall with Paopu tarts without her having to ask for it – it’s their favorite type of fruit and desert. “Here, hold this,” she says and Sora gapes when Kairi hands him over a heeled shoe, leaning against him to rub at her sore ankle. At Sora’s dumbfounded look, she grins. “What? These things are far too small on me and I almost twisted my ankle before coming out of the hallway.”

“Ouch,” Sora sympathizes, setting the plate down in favor of inspecting the shoe, while Kairi awkwardly hops around, right hand buried somewhere deep under the shimmering layers of her beautiful dress. “Huh. These kinda do look like torture devices,” he hisses, “not to be walked in, that’s for sure.”

“The things you do for traditions, huh, Sora?” she smiles in a cheeky way, reclaiming the shoe and putting it back on with a defeated sigh. “I wish they started making these parties a bit more… private. I don’t know like half of the people here. Your family?” she swipes one tart, taking a generous bite out of it. Pops the rest into Sora’s waiting mouth. Behind them, someone coos over young love.

“Nope, never met 'em,” Sora shrugs, uninterested. “Doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“That, it does not.”

“Cool, we’re on the same page,” Sora finishes, finally properly looking back at his fiancée. They keep eye contact for about least seven seconds before their faux-serious facades crumble completely, and with mutual squeaks like kettles filled with boiling water, they fall into each other, nearly crushing each other’s bones.

“Oh god, I missed you so so _so_ much,” Sora whines somewhere into her neck while Kairi pats his back, pulling him into herself with a powerful squeeze. “I’ve been going crazy wanting to see you.”

“I know, Sor, I know. I’m here now,” she says in a soothing manner, running careful fingers over his hair, chin pressed somewhere near the bruise hiding away in his hairline. “You should’ve enjoyed your Kairi-free time while you could. From now on we’ll be seeing each other so often that you’re gonna get sick of me.”

“Never ever,” Sora replies with a childish pout, nuzzling into her neck. “I don’t care if I have to marry you for that.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Kairi snorts with playful sarcasm while Sora has a hard time dislodging himself from his best friend to dig through his pockets and find her gift. He presents the small packet to her with a humble knee to the ground, to which Kairi fakes a loud gasp, attracting the attention of the partygoers standing nearby.

She makes a show out of undoing the golden ribbon with the insignia of Strife family – a simple golden crown – imprinted into it, unveiling an intricate hairpin. Predictably, it’s shaped like a wave – the insignia of the Mizushima house – little sapphires and pearls shimmering in the dimmed lights. Kairi turns it over, running careful fingers over the white gold base.

“Oh Sora…” she whispers lowly, cradling the hairpin close to her chest, “Cloud shouldn’t have.”

Sora barely has the self-restrain to not burst out laughing. _Barely._ The guests pointedly look away, giving them a moment to enjoy each other’s company. “You know him so well,” he snickers wildly, “Is it that obvious? I told him it would be and he wouldn’t believe me.”

“Obvious or not, I accept your gift. It’s lovely,” Kairi nods in approval, appraising the said gift once more. She exchanges her sparkling lily for Sora’s – or, technically, Cloud’s - pin. “How do I look?”

“Perfect and amazing,” Sora gives her an energetic thumbs up and they ease into a familiar conversation about Sora’s trip, Destiny Islands and everything in-between.

Time no longer crawls with Kairi by his side, the clock handles moving to show five minutes past eleven. The guests are beginning to dwindle and the music is no longer as loud, replaced by an even tune of the piano and violin. It strikes Sora as familiar and nostalgic, and so, he finds himself absentmindedly humming along to the repetitive melody, eyes slipping closed, listening to Kairi’s melodious voice telling him about her horse riding adventures.

She quiets down and so does Sora, eyelids just a little too heavy, body worn out from the long trip and an even longer day filled with emotional rollercoasters, joyous cheers, countless congratulations.

“It’s Riku’s favorite melody,” Kairi informs Sora, whose eyelids somehow manage to fully pop open in record speed, a shiver prickling the back of his neck. He fully turns to Kairi who, thankfully, hasn’t taken notice of his small outburst. “Did you know that it’s called “Dearly Beloved”? He said it’d sound great at our wedding,” Kairi flushes in shame, cheeks pink, “I can’t believe how cheesy he is at times…”

“It’s a really calming song,” Sora hums his approval, closing his eyes once more. The action does little to help his suddenly fraying nerves – he sees Riku’s gaze, can almost feel it on his skin. The majestic pale hair.

The sound of waves?

For a while, Kairi keeps uncharacteristically quiet. Sora can feel her eyes but does not bother to meet her halfway, too content with this woozy, warmth-filled state of mind. He feels so relaxed that he’s about to melt into the marble column that they’ve been leaning against for the past hour or so, and slide down its surface on jelly-like legs.

“Have… Have you two met?” Kairi wonders, tone carefully neutral. Only then, Sora picks up on the weird vibe, peeling open one lazy eyelid to glance at his future wife.

“No. Though, I did see him around. He was always surrounded by people so I never had the chance to properly introduce myself,” he half-lies, examining the ballroom. Champagne-colored walls. Dark wood, arching ceiling. Countless paintings which cost as much as the house of one peasant, if not more. Guards in heavy armor stationed at every exit, milling about.

No aquamarines or silvers in his field of vision.

“He’s been wanting to meet you, you know,” Kairi says. Sora’s heart jumps in his chest and squeezes. He tries to appear casual, if only for her sake. “You never visited.”

“I’m sorry,” he genuinely apologizes, shoulders hunched.

“It’s okay. I know how long it takes to get here from Destiny Islands. Not an easy trip to make, especially if you’ve no business on the mainland.”

“Still, I should’ve.”

“Sora,” Kairi cuts him off, sharp. She moves to cradle his face, palms soft and gentle, only to mercilessly squish them inwards, making her fiancé appear like a fish. “None of that, okay? We’ve been over this before. Let it go, please.”

“Okay,” he puffs out through his fish-lips. The girl relents immediately.

“Good,” she nods, satisfied and then clasps her hands together, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “Now, let’s get you two properly introduced!”

Before Sora can even begin to react or exclaim a high-pitched “what!”, he finds himself dragged away from the column and towards the other end of the spacious ballroom, towards the performing musicians, specifically the one sitting at the grand piano.

Sora chokes, halting forcefully and stopping Kairi dead in her tracks – the movement is so sudden that she stumbles backwards and into Sora’s unmoving, statue-like being.

“I lied,” Kairi confesses sheepishly, tongue finding her lower lip, slightly sticking out. A tease. “”Dearly Beloved” was actually composed by Riku’s late mother. Her last piece. He took it upon himself to complete it.”

Behind the piano, sits _Riku_ , long fingers ghosting over black and ivory keys, attention solely focused on the task at hand. Sometime during the night, he has taken out the ribbon holding together the silvery mess of his long mane, loosely cascading over the wide set of shoulders. It takes a few seconds for Sora to fully process that the beautiful melody coming from the grand piano is _Riku’s work_ – he’s the one coaxing out such gentle sounds from an instrument this bulky.

Kairi tugs him by the hand, to no avail.

Sora stares, completely mesmerized by the simple yet meaningful sight, as Riku finally, _finally_ looks up after what feels like _hours, years, eons_ , and Sora’s time stands completely still, fading out his surroundings in a very unfamiliar way – with Kairi, it's entirely different, but now…

Riku seems surprised by his audience of two as though he hasn’t expected to meet them there of all the places. He tilts his perfect head to the side, pinning Sora with that burning stare and lighting his nerves on fire, splashes of sea-green visible in those aquamarine depths.

Sora gasps, loud enough to catch attention. Shivers. Grows hot and cold all at once.

And then promptly falls in love.


End file.
